


Bird in the Hand

by Capucine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, M/M, Soviet-era, slight dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia thinks he's in a good relationship with Mongolia. After all, Mongolia is his first ally as the Soviet Union, and he doesn't push him away. Is it real, though?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bird in the Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Based on historyish stuff.

Russia could remember, in distant thought, a time he'd been afraid of Mongolia. When they had been about the same size children, and Mongolia had made the world's largest empire. Mongolia hadn't stayed around after conquering Russia; instead, Golden Horde had stayed, watching over Russia and demanding tribute. It was all a game to him, seeing which of Russia's princes would win the bribing game.

He could hardly imagine the man in front of him was that same hyperactive child. He still had his long braid and his traditional clothes, but he wore glasses and a calm expression now.

“I still don't see why you want to bring to this... what is it called again?” Mongolia preferred home at this point in his life; that was something that Russia had picked up on. He also often preferred being alone to company.

“It's a conference, of sorts; it's only between the Soviet Bloc, Eastern Europe. But I am bringing you,” Russia said, quick to head off Mongolia's questioning look, “because you have been one of us for so long, and the others just don't understand. You'll make them understand.”

Mongolia raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Russia leaned in to brush a kiss against his cheek, saying, “I know you can do it.”

Mongolia sighed, and nodded. “Of course I can.” He didn't mention he didn't trust planes, which was what Russia was flying them there in, but Russia knew he didn't.

They flew there, where many nations who found themselves somewhat unwillingly Communist waited. Russia knew that Mongolia barely knew most of them, though he had tangled with Hungary and Poland a bit. It had been centuries, though, so he hardly expected that they would be harsh towards him because of that.

As they arrived, the nations turned to see them, faces going blank at seeing Russia. It was like they were afraid of him; maybe they should be.

“Like, who's this?” Poland demanded, pointing at Mongolia.

“Ah, that is rude, Poland. Please try to be polite,” Russia said, giving him a look one might give a misbehaving three year old.

“I'm Mongolia,” Mongolia said, giving a brief nod of the head towards the others.

Hungary's eyes widened. “ _You're_ Mongolia? I thought you disappeared!”

“All but that,” Mongolia said almost flatly. He nodded towards the group. “You're all Communist now, aren't you?”

There was some grumbling, but it stopped when Russia smiled. “Comrades, Mongolia is here to tell you about the wonders of being a close friend of the Soviet Union.”

He knew he didn't need to add that anyone who didn't listen attentively might leave the conference with a few missing teeth. They all stood at attention.

Mongolia hesitated. Russia was not sure why. Hadn't he shown great kindness to the nation sandwich between him and China? Had he not been the savior who made him a free country?

“I don't know your stories,” Mongolia said slowly, as though he was measuring each word carefully, “But mine would have been one of subjugation by China had it not been for Russia. He stepped in and got rid of China; I am his earliest ally.”

They still looked at him sullenly. 

Russia smiled, saying, “Trust comrade Mongolia's word; without Communism, it would be a lot worse in your home, yes?”

“Yes,” Mongolia said, almost seemingly as an automatic answer.

“But he's a mongoloid,” Hungary pointed out. “He can't have had the same standard of living as us before.”

Poland nodded. “We had it a lot better before the war.”

“Ah, my friends; you must live with what you have now. Most of you have bombed out cities, destruction everywhere. You can't expect it to go back to the way it was before; progress moves forward, comrades.” Russia felt his little speech went over well.

“It will never be the same,” Romania muttered bitterly.

“No. It will be better,” Russia insisted, and he looked each of them in the eye, as though daring them to say otherwise. No one did.

Mongolia was looking at him like he was wondering why he'd even bothered to bring him.

“Comrade Mongolia, please tell these comrades how your life has improved.”

“We have a strong government now,” he said, eyes darting over to look at Russia. Russia knew it was just because he liked looking at him. “We have collectivized herding now. No one is without a job.”

They all looked at Mongolia skeptically.

Russia cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mongolia. I believe we shall continue this meeting tomorrow without you, dear comrade.”

Mongolia nodded. 

“We shall adjourn, but I expect to see you all at six in the morning to discuss changes in your governments. Do not be late, yes?” Russia smiled at all his new underlings, and led the way out. He caught Mongolia's arm, leading him to his hotel room.

This was one of the few good hotels in Moldova (a fact which seemed to rub Romania raw, angry that he was not allowed to see his brother even though they were within miles of him). It had beds that would fit more than one person.

Russia led Mongolia back to his room, and that was when he began kissing him, undressing him at the same time.

As usual, Mongolia helped, kissing back. His heart always beat so fast when they were together like this; Russia imagined it must be an age thing. He always enjoyed feeling Mongolia's scars, some from China, some from him when he wasn't himself-- as he explained it to Mongolia.

It was over and done with fast, Russia being not so experienced as he would have liked to be (as much as he'd admired France in his youth, he'd never been able to turn on the charm that way). Mongolia lay next to him in bed.

“You are special to me,” Russia said, kissing him on the top of the head. Mongolia nodded, half-lidded eyes betraying his sleepiness.

“As you are to me.”

Russia smiled to himself. He had everything he could want. Never mind how his boss watched and punished him like a hawk; here, he was in control, and he had someone who truly cared about him.

He wouldn't know until the 90's that Mongolia was very much straight, and not at all comfortable with dating men.


End file.
